


the history behind the name alexander

by gaystcr



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: A little canon divergent, Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Alec Lightwood-centric, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Good Boyfriend Magnus Bane, Insecure Alec Lightwood, Light Angst, M/M, Read the notes for trigger warnings, Slice of Life, Trans Alec Lightwood, ahh you guys it's happening!!, also a lil canon divergent, it's about his name lmao and him being trans, mlm author, okay here you go, one les mis reference bc i'm weak, use of the name alexander bc i love it!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 10:38:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11988090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaystcr/pseuds/gaystcr
Summary: his name was one that fit him wrong, too big, too cluttered, too confining and choking. he was all ripped apart at the edges, a self-made king.--alec lightwood? a gay trans man? it's more likely than you think! a story including five scenes and slices of alec lightwood's life.





	the history behind the name alexander

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to: my boy @benjpierce (i listened to never apart on repeat while writing this), kesha (i listened to rainbow while writing this too), @blurryfandoms (the true fan ily) @petertheromaniwolf (theo!! be excited! there is les mis!) and @claryfightwood (sksksks i still can’t believe we’re frens) 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: i am transmasc mlm, but i cannot guarantee that all transmasc kids experience dysphoria the same way alec does in this fic. some parts are drawn from my experience, but not all of it. also, this is an alec-centric fic first, and then a malec fic.
> 
> pairings: alexander lightwood and magnus bane
> 
> WARNINGS: trans! alec lightwood, mentions of dysphoria, talk about chests and the down below, mentions of shark week, use of deadname. IF YOU'RE FTM OR TRANSMASC, PLEASE READ THIS AT YOUR OWN CAUTION!
> 
> summary: his name was one that fit him wrong, too big, too cluttered, too confining and choking. he was all ripped apart at the edges, a self-made king.
> 
> (also uploaded on my tumblr, skylarisafail!)

1.

He smoothes his clothes down in front of the mirror, an ever permanent frown etched onto his face. He can never get his shirts to stand just _right_ , falling over his chest and masking those...things. He sighs and slings a bow over his shoulder and heads out, eyes down and shoulders raised just enough for them to look broad.

Izzy stands outside his room, leaning against a wall and flipping through a magazine. Alec squints at it and notices it’s one of those magazines with girls on them from Jace’s room. He recognises them from that one time Jace chucked one at his head. Don’t ask, it’s a long story.

She looks up from the magazine. “Do you think she’s cute?” she asks, pointing at a girl on a page. She’s modelling against a rock or something, and he supposes she’s pretty.

“Her eyes are a nice colour,” offers Alec. Izzy sighs.

“Honestly, big brother,” she says, shaking her head fondly, and Alec feels his heart _lurch_. The words ‘big brother’ fit him perfectly, wrapping around him like a blanket of comfort, twisting into his stomach and settling there, warm and loved and _content_. They fit him much, much better than his – he shudders – birth name.

“Where’s Jace?” he asks, raising an eyebrow and scanning the hallway. “He’s late.”

Izzy shrugs. “He’ll be here soon. Besides, gives me more time to look at cute girls.”

Alec rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, tapping his foot impatiently against the floor. It’s their third mission, and Jace knows that Alec’s been looking forward to this for _days_ , missions being the one thing to keep his mind off from everything. Mom’s supposed to check on them too, but she’s late as well.

Why is everyone so late all of a sudden?

Jace skids around the corner, out of breath, hair sticking up in all directions. He seems to notice Alec’s scowl deepen and Izzy looking thoroughly unimpressed, so he manages to breathe out a “Sorry I’m late, Izzy, Alexandri – shit, sorry, Alec.”

Alec smiles. It’s nice that they call him what he feels is right. Jace looks over Izzy’s shoulder to look at the girls in the magazine, while Alec looks at his watch and taps his foot on the ground and waits and waits and waits, until _finally_ Mom rounds the corner, looking as disapproving as usual.

She looks her three kids up and down, all snapping to attention. She seems to be content enough with Jace, tugs the hem of Izzy’s dress down and then raises an eyebrow at Alec. “What are you wearing?” she asks.

Alec looks down at his shirt and shrugs, shaking inwardly. Izzy steps closer, one hand resting on his arm. “A shirt,” she says for him. “And it looks fine, Mom.”

Mom raises her eyebrows, but doesn’t say anything. “I suppose it looks alright,” she says slowly, and Alec breathes. “Come along, now. We have some demons to kill.”

Mom heads the line while Alec follows, Izzy and Jace talking excitedly about something or the other, bouncing on the balls of their feet. Honestly, nobody should be this excited about killing a bunch of nasty fuckers, but well. They’re teenagers and they’re Shadowhunters and killing demons is about the only stress-relief they get.

Alec shrugs to himself and clasps his bow tighter, other people in the Institute nodding at him. He’s the Lightwood heir. He stands tall, arms held together behind his back, and hides everything he feels inside, including his name. His shoulders uphold the family name, his chest and hair make them stare.

Hodge stands by the exit. “Maryse,” he says, nodding at her, then kneels down to Izzy’s height, smiling. Alec frowns. He’s never quite trusted Hodge, but Izzy and Jace seem to like him, which is alright, he supposes. He can learn to like him.

“Third mission?” he asks, and Izzy and Jace nod. Alec doesn’t move. “Approved by the Clave?”

“ _Yes_ , Hodge,” says Izzy, rolling her eyes. The Clave is a bit of a touchy subject around Shadowhunters and Downworlders alike, known as the otherworldly mystic organisation that’s way above their heads in terms of understanding. You’re supposed to get their permission for your every move. Mom and Dad are quite strict about that, and so Alec adheres to the rule, not wanting to anger them further.

Izzy and Jace both think it’s a ton of fucking bullshit.

Hodge knows they’re excited, so he lets them pass through, and Izzy and Jace bounce out of the door happily, Mom following. He smiles at Alec, not unkindly, and he doesn’t have to kneel down to talk to him. Alec is almost as tall as most of the adults in the Institute.

“And you, Alexandria?” he says, and whatever he says next is lost to Alec’s ears, because all he can hear is _that name_ , ringing and echoing through his mind. He’s falling and falling and falling and he doesn’t think he can get back up. It’s not the sweet kind of falling either, it’s the hard and harsh sort that flings you against walls and stretches out that uncomfortable feeling in your gut and –

Hodge looks at him expectantly, so Alec clutches his bow tighter, posture forgotten and nods, rushing out of the door quickly. He’s blinking back tears and _fuck_ , this hasn’t happened in so long that he forgets what the feeling is like. Every time someone calls him _that_ , it builds up and up and up until one day it all comes crashing down.

He catches up with the others, Mom and Jace talking about demons and Izzy trailing behind. He attempts to smile at her and walk, but she notices what’s up, almost immediately.

“What happened?” she asks, and Alec squeezes his eyes shut and then back open.

“He called me _it_.”

Izzy’s face falls. She slinks her arms around Alec’s middle. “It’ll be alright one day, Alec.”

_When?_ he thinks. _When will the ‘one day’ I’ve been waiting for all my life finally come?_

 

* * *

 

 

2.

Fast-forward to ten years later, and it hasn’t eased one bit.

Instead, now everyone whispers and looks at him, from hallway to hallway. The once light weight of the _Lightwood_ name now drags his shoulders down, his body shaking. He carries it single-handedly, a name filled with disrespect and despair. Izzy and Jace offer to carry it with him, cut off bit by bit and even it out, but he refuses, every time.

_Be strong, Alec. Be brave._

“Are you – “ starts Izzy, and he waves her away.

“I’m fine,” he says, even though he’s really not, he’s clutching the edges of the table for support and he can hear the whispers around him building up to a crescendo and _higher, higher, higher_ , till it all falls apart and he’s drowning. He’s lucky he got top surgery a few years ago, because if he’d been wearing a binder right now, his lungs would have compressed.

It’s all been so _different_ , and he doesn’t like change. Routine, doing the same thing over and over again, that’s what keeps him sane. That’s what makes him feel okay. But ever since the whirlwind ball of red fur and her trusty sidekick entered – well, more like ripped apart – their lives, things have gone to the dogs.

The routine has gone up in the air, torn apart and now they’re going on missions left and right, trying to find Jocelyn Fairchild and kill demons and make sure that the Institute’s under control, and that Mom and Dad don’t find out. All of Alec’s internal rules have been broken at least seven times already. Keeping on the down low? Not a priority anymore.

He sighs. Keeping out of sight, his head down and doing dutiful work is what helps him pass, is what helps him weave in and out of daily life without getting noticed. Now, he feels like all eyes on him, and the weight on his shoulders is getting heavier, day by day. And today is the day.

On this day, four years ago, he came out. It went...better than he expected it to. Everyone regards Alec Lightwood as a man, albeit with stares and whispers and raised eyebrows. Telling them that he’s well... _that_ too, that’s only going to add to the hurt.

“Are you _sure_ you’re fine?” asks Izzy, raising an eyebrow. “Today’s the day, isn’t it?”

Alec shrugs. “Yeah,” he says. “But it’s okay.”

Izzy looks like she’s going to say something, but she doesn’t. Instead, she changes the topic and says, “And the party tonight? You’re coming with us, right?”

Alec rolls his eyes and allows himself a small smile, before letting it drop and putting his guard back up again. “Of course I am,” he says. “It’s a mission, and I have to be there for it to make sure you and Jace don’t mess up.”

“Clary’s coming as well, and she’s more likely to mess up than either of us,” says Izzy, but it’s not an unkind statement.

“I know,” he says. “Hopefully she won’t.”

“Hopefully. And you’re not wearing the denim shirt!”

“Izzy. It’s a _mission._ You won’t wear the necklace.”

“But it looks so good on me!”

Alec huffs a laugh. He’s ready.

 

* * *

 

 

3.

Turns out, he is definitely, absolutely _not ready_.

The last few days have hazed over each other, demons and fights with Jace and Clary Fairchild doing stupid things as usual. It’s not a welcome change, not at all. Everyone is mad at him and he’s mad at himself and most importantly, he’s mad at Magnus Bane.

Yes, the fucking warlock who apparently, according to darling Isabelle, has changed his life for the better.

And now he’s stuck in his apartment with drinks, and it’s late at night, and it’s all because he couldn’t control his fucking _raging_ crush on him. Alec Lightwood? A useless homosexual? It’s more likely than you think.

Because Clary Fairchild got her friend Luke into trouble, and for some reason Magnus needed _his_ energy, and so they had a moment of very gay bonding and now he’s still there. He’s still there. _He’s still there_.

Alec stops cleaning up the couch. Why is he still here?

“Why am I still here?” he asks out loud, and Magnus stops and stares at him. Alec’s cheeks burn red and he looks back down, continuing to clean. This is exactly why he doesn’t talk to people.

Magnus shrugs and says, “Honestly? I don’t know either. Would you like a drink and a break?”

Alec stretches. He’s never had a drink before, not really, unless you count that small shot of vodka Jace slipped into his orange juice once. “Alright,” he says, surprising himself and Magnus conjures up a drink from God-knows-where, handing it to him. It’s in a fancy glass, and it looks fruity.

Alec takes a sip of it. It’s disgusting.

His parents, however, have raised him with good manners, so he smiles and takes another sip. Magnus rolls his eyes and conjures it away. “If you hate it, tell me you hate it,” he says.

“Next time, I will,” says Alec, and okay, that sounded way more flirty than he meant it to. But maybe it’s all in his head.

“ _Will_ there be a next time?” asks Magnus, taking a sip of that goddamned drink.

Alec so desperately wants to say yes, because this man is possibly the start of something, finally, but he’s buckled down to the ground by his name and responsibility. He casts his eyes downwards and says, “I’m sorry, Magnus. Perhaps.”

Magnus smiles, instead. “I understand,” he says. “You’re a part of a don’t-ask, don’t-tell society.”

“I – “ he wants to tell Magnus that he’s that and that, that he isn’t exactly the epitome of perfection everyone thinks him to be. But he says nothing. Instead, “Yeah.”

“Tell me about yourself,” says Magnus. “You, your family? Isn’t that what Shadowhunters value the most?”

“I, um, yeah,” says Alec, mentally kicking himself for being the least eloquent person on the planet. “You’ve met Izzy. And Jace.”

Magnus smiles over the tip of the glass, and the light reflects of his face _perfectly_. “They seem nice. Jace is the blonde one, yes?”

Alec snorts. “I don’t think anyone has ever referred to Jace as _the blonde one_.”

“What do they refer to him as, then?”

“His name, usually. Although my favourite one is ‘Gay Brother #2’.”

Magnus laughs, and there’s a fire in Alec’s heart, all of a sudden, and it’s burning and burning and he’s not quite sure what to think of it. “Let me guess,” says Magnus, tipping the glass at him and grinning. “Isabelle coined that term, didn’t she?”

“She was drunk,” says Alec. “I guess that makes up for it.”

“She seems a tad like me,” says Magnus, draining the last of his drink. “And the rest of your family?”

“There’s Max,” says Alec, allowing himself a small smile. “He’s twelve and he likes blowing things up, specifically schools.”

“Jace’s influence, I assume?”

Alec blushes and ducks his head. “More like mine, actually,” he says, and he remembers all the times he’s accidentally set something on fire, like the tree they used to have outside of the Institute, and other things he set on fire, well, _not_ -so-accidentally, like one of his dresses.

Scratch that, _all_ of his dresses.

“Who _knew_ Alexander Lightwood was such a rebel?” says Magnus, sounding impressed, but that’s not what Alec hears. His eyes snap up and something warm shoots through his veins, his hands and body tremble slightly.

_Alexander._

Isn’t it hilarious that he hasn’t actually thought of a name for himself? Everyone calls him Alec, and that’s enough for him and for everyone he cares about. _Alexander_. The name chimes in his mind like comfort, and the warm feeling keeps engulfing him, drowning him. _Alexander_. It fits him like a glove, soft and protective, a bubble around him. _Alexander_.

“Alexander?” asks Magnus, snapping him out of his reverie. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” breathes Alec. “Yeah, I’m fine. Uh, what did you call me?”

Magnus’ brow furrows, and if that isn’t the cutest thing Alec’s ever seen – “Alexander,” he says. “That is your name, yes? Or did I assume – “

“No, no,” says Alec hurriedly. “That’s my name.”

Magnus cocks his head to the side and smiles lightly. “It’s a wonderful one.”

Alec blushes again. _Alexander_. He can’t believe he’s never thought of that. He looks at Magnus, who grins and seems to know exactly what he’s thinking of. He summons some Chinese food and they sit down on the chairs, drinking champagne and talking about things late into the long night.

Alec hardly notices when he starts nodding off, but Magnus does. He shakes his shoulder gently and gestures to the couch, where a cushion and blanket are waiting for him. Alec blinks his eyes open and stumbles over, wearily, and he drops into it, welcoming the softness of the couch. If he had still been binding, he would have snapped awake and taken it off, but luckily, he’s not.

The last thing he hears before he falls asleep is, “Sweet dreams, Alexander.”

 

* * *

 

 

4.

He takes a deep breath in, and smiles at Lydia.

The last few weeks have been _living hell_. They’ve gone by in a flurry of weddings and people thinking he’s a lesbian because he’s marrying a woman, _which he’s not because he’s not a girl_ , and Magnus.

_Fuck._

It’s his wedding. His wedding. He’s getting married. He’s getting married to a woman. Is this the freak out that Izzy and Jace were talking about? Honestly, he’s impressed that he’s held out for so long. He also quite regrets freaking out now, of all times, when Lydia’s holding the stele to his arm, about to carve (carve?) the rune into his skin –

There’s a banging noise, the sound of doors opening, and Alec blinks, seeing Magnus. Magic crackles at his fingertips, and he looks vulnerable, out of breath, almost. The world fades into darkness and quiet, as if someone turned the brightness and volume down. He hardly notices Jace asking him something, Mom threatening Magnus.

Alec breathes. It’s as if the world slips into slow motion with silence, giving him time to sort out the thoughts in his head. Magnus is there. Magnus means recklessness, unsure ground, and potential disaster. Lydia means safety, security, and being approved. Magnus means happiness. Lydia, however kind she may be, does not.

He shakes his head. His duty is to Lydia. To her, and to his family. His duty is marrying her, and raising children and –

The thought of it makes Alec shudder. Lydia looks at him expectantly, and he can feel the absence of exhales in the air. It’s like everyone is holding their breath, waiting to see what snaps, who breaks first.

He doesn’t look at Magnus, not yet. Truth is, he doesn’t think he can bear it. Looking at Magnus, well, it isn’t a side activity. Looking at Magnus requires strength he doesn’t have, hope he doesn’t own. He looks straight at Lydia, whose eyes are kind with understanding, even though her lips tremble and shake. Izzy stands behind her, her face completely blank to the outsiders, but Alec can see the slight tilt of her lips.

He feels cold all over, like someone has made him numb to everything outside. His parents stare, expecting him to tell Magnus to leave. The crowd waits and waits, but Alec _doesn’t know what to do._ He’s falling, falling, falling, and he’s not quite sure if he can pick himself up again.

He remembers, however, how Magnus makes him feel warm. He’s all hazy around the edges, radiating sunshine and light and pure kindness and unadulterated affection. Magnus is so open about himself, and Alec can only wish to be the same.

He breathes in. Lydia is still looking at him expectantly – a soft smile curved around the furrows of her face – and Alec startles, and realises.

He cannot spend the rest of his life with her.

She deserves someone better. She deserves someone who will love her, like a good partner, and not a half-assed homosexual one. And he deserves better too. He deserves someone who makes him happy, the warmth to his cold.

For the first time in his life, Alec Lightwood makes a choice for himself.

He says something to Lydia, a string of words and letters that make no sense when he says them out loud, but she smiles – brokenly, thinks Alec, and that makes him feel bad – and says that she understands, that _he deserves to be happy_.

Maybe he does.

He turns to face the crowd, but he doesn’t look at their faces. His attention is focused on one man, and on him only. Looking at Magnus? Well, it might just be his goddamned favourite activity.

Right now? He looks confused, like someone took all of his feelings and scattered them across the stars. He looks right back at Alec like someone descended from the heavens, like he’s surprised that someone’s making a choice _for him_ , that someone is _choosing him_. His head tilts slightly, and Alec breathes again, stepping down from the altar.

It’s like a ripple effect gone through the crowd, everyone leaning back just slightly. Alec notices, out of the corner of his eye, his mother giving him a panicked look, silently pleading for him to go back, to get back on the altar.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he strides forward, and he can already hear the whispers to come later, the judgement, the questioning, but he forgets all of it, his only focus on the man standing in front of him. Magnus doesn’t even bother concealing his surprise anymore, eyes widening. Alec says something to his mother, not tearing his gaze away, and closer, closer, closer –

He’s kissing Magnus Bane, in front of everyone, and it’s good, and it’s safe, and it’s _warm._

 

* * *

 

 

5.

The air is tinted with warmth and comfort, Alec softly pushing Magnus backwards into the room, doors opening. They giggle in between kisses, pressing their foreheads to one another. It won’t go much farther tonight, a silent agreement, as they end up on the bed. They breathe into each other, until they break apart and smile. Magnus’ eyes flash gold for a second, and Alec stops breathing.

“Is that – is that your warlock mark?” asks Alec, tilting Magnus’ head up. Magnus shrugs, trying to shrink.

“Yes,” he says, and to an outsider, he sounds calm, collected, like it means nothing, but Alec can _hear_ how that one word trembles and shakes, trees in the wind of a storm. There’s a blow to Alec’s heart.

“Hey,” he says softly, shifting a little. “They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

The air hushes, swirling all around them. Magnus blushes, ducking down, and it’s fucking clichéd, but fireworks explode in Alec. Magnus lies down next to him, and they breathe in the moment, not wanting to tarnish the silence with words.

Alec breathes. He knows that he wants to tell Magnus that he’s _that_ – that he’s not who he makes out to be. He’s all torn around the edges, a self-made king. Alec stares up at the ceiling, breathing in and out and back in, running through the sentences he’ll say, the reactions that he might receive, the –

“I can _hear_ you worrying,” says Magnus, humour lacing his voice. Alec turns on his side, seeing Magnus smile and take his rings off. He fades into the background, the light complementing his skin, and Alec can hardly breathe. His heart clenches, then releases as Magnus takes his shirt off and lies back down, pulling the blanket over both of them.

“I’m not worrying,” insists Alec, curling up close. “I’m... _thinking_.”

“You’re worrying,” teases Magnus, kissing the top of Alec’s head. “You big old worrier.”

Alec laughs, a soft sound. He is worrying. He knows, technically, that Magnus will be supportive and that he won’t mind and that he will be kind, but –

“What are you worrying about?” asks Magnus, fitting his body around Alec’s. Alec melts into Magnus’ front, closing his eyes and breathing in.

“It’s nothing important,” he says.

“It’s always important to me, Alexander.”

_Alexander_. The name lifts him up, and fuck it, fuck all of the speeches Alec has prepared, fuck all of the worries. He inhales, his breath trembling. Magnus kisses the top of his head again, soft, and Alec decides.

“Magnus?”

“Hmm?”

“I have to tell you something,” says Alec, decisive. The air tenses, ever so slightly.

“Of course,” says Magnus, softer than ever. And maybe that’s what pushes Alec to say it, to say those two small words.

He breathes. “I’m trans.”

The air tenses even more, impossibly so, and it feels like everything is crashing and burner and growing hotter and hotter and hotter and he’s burning, Alec is _burning_ amongst the wreck and those words and –

“Okay,” says Magnus, and Alec exhales, the world softening again, the colours becoming clearer and brighter.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” repeats Magnus. “Would you like me to call you by another - ?”

“No,” says Alec, quickly. “No. I, uh, I use he/him pronouns and I go by Alec.”

“Just Alec?” teases Magnus, and Alec laughs, and he keeps laughing. He can’t _believe_ he’s gotten this lucky, he can’t believe that Magnus has taken it so simply, and the room grows softer and colours brighten and Alec can _breathe_.

“You were the first person to call me Alexander,” says Alec, and he can feel Magnus smile, and Alec shuffles around and kisses him, breathing into it. It’s soft and it’s warm and it’s _safe_ , and when they break apart, Magnus grins.

“I can’t believe I was the first,” says Magnus, and Alec blushes and buries his head under the blanket. He can’t believe that he’s with _this man_.

The rest of the night goes by with laughter and Magnus tickling him (“I never knew you were _this_ ticklish, Alexander.”) and clichéd sappiness (“I love you.”) and they drift off into the middle ground between sleep and consciousness.

The last thing Alec can remember is Magnus tracing something into his t-shirt, over and over again.

“Hmm?” asks Alec, blearily, early morning light streaming through the window. “What are you doing?”

“Tracing a word into your t-shirt,” replies Magnus, voice almost inaudible.

“What is it?”

“24601.”

“ _Magnus,_ ” says Alec, smiling anyway. “What’s the word you’re tracing?”

“Alexander.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! leave a comment/kudos, maybe?


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